Lot 092 : The Face In The Fountain

Today's episode is brought to you by Good Boy, a new haunted house film told entirely from a dog's perspective.

When Indy the dog moves into a rural home with his owner, he discovers supernatural forces lurking in the shadows.

As dark entities threaten his human companion, this brave pup must fight to protect the ones he loves most.

Don't miss the canine performance everyone is talking about.

See Indy in Good Boy, only in theaters October 3rd.

Get tickets today at Goodboy.movie.

Ready for a great night out?

Top concerts are headed to Shoreline Amphitheater this September and October.

Don't miss the chance to see your favorite artists like Conan Gray, Above and Beyond, Revolution, Judas Priest, the B-52s, and many more.

Nothing beats a great night of live music with your friends.

Tickets are going fast, so don't wait.

Head to live nation.com to see the full list of shows and get your tickets today.

That's live nation.com.

Today's episode is sponsored by I Know What You Did Last Summer.

Get it now on digital.

When five friends inadvertently cause a deadly car accident, they cover up their involvement and make a pact to keep it a secret rather than face the consequences.

A year later, their past comes back to haunt them, and they're forced to confront a horrifying truth.

Someone knows what they did last summer and is hell-bent on revenge.

As one by one, the friends are stalked by a killer.

They discover this happened before, so they turn to two survivors of the legendary Southport massacre of 1997 for help.

Starring Madeline Klein, Chase Sue Wonders, Jonah Hauer King, with Freddie Prince Jr., and Jennifer Love Hewitt.

I know what you did last summer is a perfect summer slasher, says Jordan Crucciolo of NPR.

Your summer is not over yet.

Don't miss a killer movie night at home.

Well now, you've arrived at just the right moment.

I've uncovered something heavy from the archives, and I dare not move it alone.

This cracked stone fragment once formed the mouth of a courtyard fountain in a remote hotel, tucked away in California's wine country.

White walls, vines climbing higher than the windows, and in the center, this face.

Travelers whispered it didn't merely pour water.

It watched.

Its eyes followed.

Some even swore it showed them faces that weren't their own, rippling up from the depths like memories that never belonged to them.

The hotel is gone now, left to ruin, but the fountain's face remains, chipped and cold, resting here in the antiquarium.

This is Lot 092,

the face in the fountain.

Before we begin, I want to point out some of the customers whose names have been etched in brass on this beautiful plaque I had made above the front desk.

These are some of the members of the inner circle of the antiquarium.

We go by the obsidian covenant recent initiates include amarie

john yaegerlein

alana pitt

hairy mermaid

teresa moser

michelle

black cat lucky ski and ashley owen

and Gieko Starchild Unicorn.

We are ever appreciative of your devotion to the Order.

Go to theObsidian Covenant.com to receive the sacrament.

Now,

where were we?

Oh, yes.

Welcome to the Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings

and Odd Goings On.

I have not always been as you see me now.

I don't mind so much,

though the constant spewing can be a bit.

boring after a while.

At least I'm not a grotesquerie.

One of those carved stone warnings to humanity.

I can still delight and amuse with my Baroque beauty, while all they can do is,

well,

gargle.

No,

I was not always thus.

Face haloed with inappropriate seasonal fruits.

I mean who puts corn and oranges on the same carving?

They don't even grow in the same climates or ripen at the same time,

But at least they are pretty.

Their vibrant colors make a lovely wreath around my noble features.

And those features have remained quite handsome over the years, thanks to the attentions of the hotel staff.

Oh, no.

Not the maintenance crew.

Never them.

I think they would just as soon have me replaced with some Rocky Stone water feature and be done with it.

Or better yet, in these drought-prone hills, remove me entirely and put in a nice flat mosaic.

Something that doesn't need pipes or electricity or to have its paint touched up.

No,

it's the gardener who keeps these colors fresh and my plaster clean.

A gardener who treats me like she would tend a faithful pet.

She keeps an eye on me to make sure I don't get up to mischief, grooming me with an occasional demosing or refreshing my colors.

Or if not like a pet, perhaps like a god being tended by an acolyte.

It was she, the gardener,

who first brought me here after she and her sisters had called me forth in their pride and their ignorance.

Call it what you will,

but people have no business meddling with things they cannot understand.

And while it's perfectly normal to want vengeance,

did none of them imagine how poorly it would go for those that brought me up from my hidden waters?

Do you like the red on the apples?

It's a special paint.

One she makes up herself from the iron-rich soil of these hills, among other ingredients more befitting a god, of course.

It's as red as the flames that flickered and burned as she and her coven mates danced around the spring far back in those hills you see, just now fading as the sun sets.

Yes, they danced, sky-clad and anointed with jasmine and myrtle,

to call me forth as the local ones said could be done in times of need

or of desire.

When it comes to vengeance, is there a difference?

A man had harmed one of their sisters, quite badly,

and the coven had read of the things that natives claimed could be brought out from the dark corners of the hidden waters in these hills.

They danced to summon wild magic to deliver justice to the abuser.

His victim did not dance.

She sat quietly inside the circle of flames, her bruises in the firelight the color of the grapes that are my beard, purple and shades of darker shadows, hiding secrets.

I came when they called,

gathering myself and emerging upon the sacred stone that sat,

carved by the millennia flowing water, just outside the wellspring itself.

I came out of the wild oaks and the tamed fields, my limbs the gnarled roots of the trees that shaded the spring,

my eyes the color of the gold and silver sometimes found in the rivers of this land.

My breath held both the sweet scent of the misty hillsides at dawn.

and the sulphur tinge of the steam boiling up through the rocks of this region.

Along with new life, there was fresh desire coursing through me.

The power of the rutting stag and the fierce boar, the dancers pausing in slight fright at the sight of me.

And then, swept up in the magic of their own creation,

they danced again.

New and wilder gyrations,

stoking the energy of their intent and yes, their own desires.

One was there to be their voice,

speaking to me of bargains and imprecations.

We made a pact amongst ourselves, the witches and I.

I would met out punishment upon the one who had harmed their sister.

She and her family had lived on this land for generations.

Her blood and my flesh sang to each other in recognition.

Yes, I would do this thing, and they would serve me and honor me for a year and a day.

I did say that God was not a bad comparison, didn't I?

What?

This

that is a persimmon.

Again, Again, not exactly in sync with the others, but what a color.

A true treasure of the land.

Something more than orange or gold or sunset pink, but made from the essence of all three, and more.

The sky was that same color at dawn.

as I strode forth and stepped out of my grotto for the first time in many years

to do my part of the bargain.

The vineyards were a shiver as I passed through them, new growth springing up in my footsteps to the music of flowing water.

While that delicate shade filled the morning with secret color,

it would be the last color the man saw

as I embraced him in his field where I came upon him.

Tendrils of this same green you see woven about my head, wrapped about his legs, his waist, his arms, and at the last breath was stifled by the thick leaves covering his mouth and nose.

But his gaze,

that I left clear until the end.

I held him like an infant, wrapped tightly in my gnarled arms, as he beheld that vision of the glorious morning colour

until its treasured color faded from his eyes until all that was left for him was the endless endless

black

wait

do you hear that

the sound of water dripping

impossible the pipes here were sealed decades ago

Hold still.

I must check the case.

If that crack in the stone is bleeding again, I'll need to fetch cloth before it spreads.

Stay with the fountain.

Don't look too long into it.

This week's episode is sponsored by Bleeker Street and LD Entertainment's new horror film, Bone Lake.

When two unsuspecting couples double-book a secluded lakeside estate, what begins as a romantic getaway quickly spirals into blood-soaked mayhem.

Deadly secrets, brutal betrayals, and fatal desires rise to the surface as the night plunges into a fever dream of gore, camp, and erotic terror.

In what Bloody Disgusting calls a goddamn blast from start to finish comes a film that rises above its genre conventions, twisting them on their heads in a deviously playful way.

Drenched in style, splattered in blood, and unapologetically unhinged, Bone Lake is the sexiest, scariest party of the year, and you're invited.

Experience Bone Lake exclusively in theaters October 3rd.

Tickets are on sale now.

Ready for a great night out?

Top concerts are headed to Shoreline Amphitheater this September and October.

Don't miss the chance to see your favorite artists like Conan Gray, Above and Beyond, Revolution, Judas Priest, the B-52s, and many more.

Nothing beats a great night of live music with your friends.

Tickets are going fast, so don't wait.

Head to live nation.com to see the full list of shows and get your tickets today.

That's live nation.com.

Why, hello there.

You've reached the antiquarium.

If you wish to leave a message, please do so with the town and have a great day.

My daughter is a good girl.

She has a a free ride, a scholarship to an Ivy League college next year.

She's kind.

She's she's sweet.

She's a good girl.

But she bought a ring from your shop

and

she she wears it.

She

it's changed her.

It's not my daughter anymore.

She hurts things.

She's killed

animals in the neighborhood.

I think

she's...

She's killed.

Oh, God.

Oh, God, that's her.

She's...

She's here.

End of messages.

There.

Contained.

For now.

Though I'd swear it smiled at me while I worked.

Shall we?

I held him, like an infant, wrapped tightly in my gnarled arms, as he beheld that vision of the glorious morning colour.

Until its treasured color faded from his eyes.

Until all that was left for him was the endless, endless

black.

I returned to my spring, to the coven, my wild energy not yet spent.

The magic of the summoning sending fresh strength to a budding lust.

I wrapped first one,

then another of the sisters into my embrace.

And they willingly gave in to my sweet breath in my fiery strength.

But I had forgotten how how fragile mortals can be.

In my hasty romp with the wild dancers, I overstepped and did damage of my own.

They left more than one as bruised as their sister, who had been the cause of all of this.

I regretted the harm, but as I said,

They should have known better.

They should have understood that the magic cannot be tamed,

only directed, and only for a while.

As it was, the damage was done, and my regret could not undo it.

But that regret did distract me a while.

For just long enough.

There was one who was prepared.

Who had foreseen what might happen.

The dancing flames had died down as my my lust was sated,

and I was pulled,

surely as if my own limbs were vine-trapped and being dragged to this place

where you and I are having such a pleasant exchange.

An exchange, I might add, that only surprises one of us.

There was only her with me.

The sister of the woman who had been harmed by the man I took their vengeance upon.

She who had called the coven together, and she who knew what might happen.

She who I now call the gardener.

The gardener had captured the stone that had sat at the entrance to my spring for all those long years, and set it within the bounds of this fountain.

She had marked sigils and signs around it, and a binding across it, and it used the very wild magic of my life and lust against me

vines sprung forth and fixed me to this place

and while i struggled there was no escaping the enchantment she put upon me

imprisoning me to her will

so

Perhaps not a god after all.

As my mouth opened to rage against my captivity, she applied the first of many colors.

The dark red of my lips, made of the soil and her blood and her own will.

And I was lost to her forever.

That was many years ago.

She has kept up her coven's bargain.

tending me far longer than the year and a day promised.

All the the while keeping the wild magic at bay and bent to her intentions.

She cares for the gardens here.

And nobody has questioned the fountain spilling water from its alabaster face surrounded by leaves and fruits.

The bounty of field and forest.

She keeps sweet myrtle and fragrant jasmine blooming around these stones.

And there are worse places to be imprisoned.

So,

no,

I have not always been as you see me now.

But

that was only the beginning.

The woman bound me not in spite,

but from the knowledge that vengeance had its own costs.

And those must be paid.

And vengeance was often a handy thing.

So why not keep her end of the bargain in her own way?

Just as she bound me, she bound herself to serve me.

Fresh plaster, reapplication of the red to my lips when they get too pale, cleaning the waters that gather in the pool below me.

and calling me forth from the mindless, gushing stupor

when needed.

As she did tonight.

You see, colors are important.

That pink handprint on the face of your young woman is a sign and a notice to those who can read the fresh mark.

And the fading stripes on her legs.

Showing from too short a skirt.

A whole volume of ill things is written there.

Yes,

they tell a story.

But not one as compelling as the look of fear she gave you when you yelled at her for being slow out of the car.

Or how she winced when you took her by the arm.

Why such long sleeves, but so short a dress?

You didn't think anybody would notice, did you?

But most of all,

the way you are now.

Even as you feel the tickle of fine jasmine leaves caressing your skin from an errant creeping tendril, the gardener missed.

Is it errant?

Or is there purpose there?

And your coming here wasn't that frightened woman's idea, was it?

And it wasn't yours either, correct?

Hmm.

What was it that brought you here?

A prize in some contest you don't remember entering?

And of course, not her idea, because she doesn't have a say in what happens, does she?

You decide where you're going, don't you?

Ah,

yes.

The raffle.

One with the tickets sold by your secretary's child to earn money for their school field trip to the horticulture center.

Your secretary, who I've never seen, but I suspect wears jasmine perfume at times and has the look of a wild dancer in her eyes when she's angry.

Your secretary.

The one who introduced you to the woman you brought with you tonight.

Somebody she thinks of as a sister.

Yes, I was not always as you see me now.

But we all change.

I am here now, the face in the fountain.

This is my fate.

And this is yours.

The creepy vines of your final embrace.

And the sky of your last vision.

Shh.

hear the splash of the water.

See the magnificent blues of colour.

Let the dark come.

I, Y, E, K, B, O, X, Y, D, K, V, Y, X, O, S, X, D, R, S, C, B, Y, Y, W, C, D, Y, Z, C, D, Y, Z, C, D, Y, Z, C, D, Y, Z, C, D, Y, Z

Thank you for your patronage.

Hope you enjoyed your your new relic as much as I've enjoyed passing along its sordid history.

It does come with our usual warning, however.

Absolutely no refunds, no exchanges, and we won't be held liable for anything that may or may not occur while the object is in your possession.

If you've got an artifact with mysterious properties, perhaps it's accompanied by a history of bizarre and disturbing circumstances.

Maybe you'd be interested in dropping it and its story by the shop to share with other customers.

Please reach out to antiquariumshop at gmail.com.

A member of our team will be in touch.

Till next time, we'll be waiting for you whenever you close your eyes in the space between sleep and dream.

During regular business hours, of course, or by appointment.

Only for you,

our

best customer.

You have a good night now.

The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings, Lot 092, The Face in the Fountain, written by Joshua Raimi Rank, starring David Piper as the entity, featuring Stephen Knowles as the antique dealer.

Engineering production and sound design by Trevor Shand.

Theme music by The Newton Brothers.

Additional sound effects by Lara's Horror Sounds.

Additional music by COAG and Vivek Abishek.

The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings is created and curated by Trevor and Lauren Shand.

Follow us on Instagram and Twitter at Antiquarium Pod.

Call the Antiquarium at 646-481-7197.

Ready for a great night out?

Top concerts are headed to Shoreline Amphitheater this September and October.

Don't miss the chance to see your favorite artists like Conan Gray, Above and Beyond, Revolution, Judas Priest, the B-52s, and many more.

Nothing beats a great night of live music with your friends.

Tickets are going fast, so don't wait.

Head to live nation.com to see the full list of shows and get your tickets today.

That's live nation.com.